


For the Moment

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-18
Updated: 2007-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:24:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little one-afternoon stand.  Porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Moment

Her face is flushed with embarrassment, but at the same time she's hornier than she has been in months. He doesn't seem to mind—the stain on his jeans from where she's been mindlessly rocking against his thigh for the past three and a half minutes will come out in the wash, and maybe he doesn't even want it to. It's dirty, selfish and dirty, the way any good affair should be.

And it's not even an affair—it's just impulsive, this sudden meeting at his house because they're both lonely and after something he said the other day on set she just decided to show up. But facts notwithstanding, she's been here half an hour and already his lips are smashed against hers, his hands up underneath the back of her insubstantial eggshell-white camisole, and her clit is rubbing against his thigh muscle something marvellous.

"Fuck, Andy."

"Yeah," he moans, swallowing her gasped expletive, moving his hands down to grasp her hips and push up against her. His cock is hard in his jeans and she's not touching it, but it's all right; he likes to wait. He wants her to be seconds away from coming when he pushes up into her; he's always found it best that way, sopping wet and writhing on his prick, the woman doing all her work just to bring her own orgasm faster.

Miranda tangles her fingers in his hair, her rings catching on the curls and tugging so that it's a bit painful, but not unpleasant. His hands are much larger, and they grasp her petite frame in a way that grounds her, washes away the little tinge of shame in wanting it _this fucking badly_ and just lets her coast the pent-up months of desire.

He accidentally bites her tongue as she scoots back and unzips his fly, but thankfully she just laughs, doesn't get bent out of shape like some girls would, and wipes her spit-slick lips with the back of her hand. He shuts his eyes and groans when she pulls his cock out, and something in him congratulates her for not asking him to remove his trousers, for recognising this for what it is. When she rolls the condom on perfunctorily and sinks down onto him, the sharp scent of her wafts up to his nostrils and he bites down hard on Miranda's shoulder.

"Yes!"

Her hiss comes through clenched teeth and he grins—_like that, do you kitten?_ She scowls at his expression and he bites again, this time a little closer to her neck. He's careful, not hard enough to bruise or bring up questions Monday, but she still pitches and mewls under him, driving down onto his cock now that she's worked past that first familiar stretch.

"Fuck me," Andy gasps, and Miranda grins knowingly.

"Glad you see things my way," she murmurs, a devious look in her eye. She lifts fully up for a moment, her hands on his shoulders, bracing herself with the head of his cock barely held inside her until she can feel the burn in her thighs, and just before he's about to tug her into place himself she drives down, hard.

"Fuck!"

She grins again and pulls hard on his lower lip with her teeth—just a little nip, not enough to be a proper kiss. She drops her head then, and her curls fan out around his chest. His shirt is half unbuttoned and the feathery texture tickles a bit, but he doesn't object. He loves the feel of a woman, in all its nuances, and he simply grips harder, lets her move at her own quickly mounting pace.

When her orgasm begins to build, he knows it; she's very vocal and she throws her head back, her eyes shutting as she changes the angle of her thrusts slightly, trying to get a bit of contact in against her clit. He doesn't suppose she's thinking of him, but that's all right, he's not really thinking of her either. A fantasy of her, yes, a version of Miranda, the Miranda-vixen in his head that would wake him every morning with a cup of tea and a blowjob, that he wouldn't have to be gentle with—but that is only a fantasy, and he respects that like he respects that she is thinking of the man she loves, back in Australia.

He doesn't care, because when she starts to rub her clit frantically with her own fingers, when he lowers his head and draws a small perky breast out above her camisole, when he bites down and tastes creamy rose-tinted flesh that he's wondered about many a time, she is orgasmic. He is coming up inside her, and she is shuddering all around him, and for this moment, all is right with the world.


End file.
